What Is & Could Be
by trunks111
Summary: ObitoKakashi. AU. Shonen-ai. Yaoi. Teased, unliked, friendless, emotionally and mentally scarred. A darkness that never seems to fade completely. Can anything or anyone change his outlook? Is his fate sealed already or can it be changed? Is it 'just a phase' or something more serious? Does anyone care enough to find out? Does he even want to know or is he content to let it happen?
1. Chapter 1

'It's the same thing every time.  
This floating here,  
In between desperation and desolation  
And of course...,  
That one person who wants you to stay in the moment.  
How...  
How do you begin to tell them what you really feel?  
When every other time,  
You have been met with heartache, loss, and distance?  
Begging, pleading, asking politely for you to tell,  
To spill your secrets.  
Unwilling, however, to burden them.  
And afraid, so very afraid,  
Of what it all means.  
Where, where would I even begin to tell the tale?  
A half-remembered beginning?  
Something that happened so long ago that has triggered all that is?  
Was it one thing or a multitude that brought this on?  
What is,  
Could it have been prevented?  
Could it have been stopped?  
Could it have been different?  
Could I be different?  
Something else, Someone else?  
So many questions and never any answers.  
I have searched, long and hard,  
But nothing seems to fit.  
I am, what I am.  
Why..., Why I am, remains to be seen in its entirety.  
Try as I might,  
Nothing ever seems good enough.  
But still,  
I am wanted to try.  
I am wanted to Be.  
But what..., what do I want?  
I think you know.  
I have said it,  
I have cried it,  
I have yelled it,  
I have dreamnt it.  
Never..., never am I given it...'

Obito sat at his desk in his room, tipping his chair back on it's two legs. Pencil, idly tapping the notebook, he reread his words, over and over. He sat the chair back down, sighing. Everything was just so damned difficult! He closed the notebook. His homework was done now. And..., actually, he felt moderately better. More grounded. Just like he knew he would. Writing usually had the effect, if he was lucky.

He glanced around his room, it was moderately cluttered. Black and orange sheets and blankets on the bed, notebooks stacked on the shelves beside his bed, a few pairs of boxers and jeans in a basket in the corner, his tv and gaming console beside that, in the doorway of his moderately sized closet a pull-up bar, and right beside that doorway, his baseball stuff.  
Sighing again, he grabbed his black glove and a ball, next snatching his iPod from the shelves and trotting down the stairs as he one-handedly strung the iPod and headphone cord down his shirt. With slight difficulty, he popped both earbuds into his ears and set the volume to lower than usual. Mama by Louna began playing as he began the walk to the park not far from his home. As he walked, he threw the ball in the air, catching it with practiced ease.

Going to the park alone. Meeting no one there. Going to play catch with himself. It was something he did almost everyday. There were generally others there, at the park. He knew they whispered about him. He knew they talked about him. He was teased a lot in school. He was a sophmore. Most of those who did the teasing were in his grade or sometimes, one below, which made it worse because then the ones in his grade would tease him further about how those in a lower class would heckle him.

Still, he went. He stayed until it started to get dark. Eventually, he would usually move to the playground equipment and work on pull-ups. He could do them at his house, in his room, but the change in scenery was always nice. He pushed himself harder there than in his room. To prove he was strong. To prove he could rise above.

Drenched in sweat, he walked back, simply holding the ball in the glove. Upon returning to his room, he put the glove in its usual spot, finally, removing his goggles and grabbing a fresh pair of boxers and then traveling down the short hall to the bathroom.  
He showered and redressed in his boxers, going to his room to lay in his bed and game for a few hours. He played Soul Calibur II the whole time, eventually growing frustrated and bored, thankfully, it was time for him to go to bed by then. After turning everything off, he laid down and closed his eyes, willing his mind to quiet soon so he could get some rest.

In the morning he dressed in plain black skinny jeans and an equally black shirt. Goggles on, notebook in hand, he trotted down the stairs, grabbing a few cereal bars for breakfast and a can of soda, he left and locked the house. Once he arrived at the bus stop, he carefully set his can down and ate the food he had brought. He was halfway finished with his can when the bus pulled up. He and a couple other teens boarded the bus, him finishing his drink as he climbed the steps.  
He took his seat by the window, his seat staying unoccupied until the last stop, but even as someone sat down, they ignored him completely. Sighing inaudibly, he continued to gaze out the window. Just another day.

English wasn't until fifth period. So he sat through gym, as usual, being virtually useless because no one thought he was worth anything. Sitting quietly through second through fourth period, only quietly answering questions if he happened to be called upon. Normal. All normal. He walked with earbuds in down the halls, class to class. Trying to drown the noise of the students and teachers and administrators.

Upon arriving in English, he took his seat in the back, getting out his notebook. He sat with it and pencil in hand, staring into space until the bell sounded. Dimly, hearing the usual heckles.  
It was no secret, this teacher hated him and those like him. Quiet, good at writing and reading, not actively sportsy. He scribbles his name, date, and period in the upper right corner of his paper before ripping it out gently and handing it forward.

As they work upon an assignment for that days class, Obito looks up, Madara is staring directly at him. He returns the stare, his face perfectly blank, Madara looks away first, and Obito resumes his work. He didn't even remotely like him. He wouldn't report shit. He kept writing on the assignment, his knuckles getting paler as he gripped the pencil tighter and tighter, ceasing to write and simply stare at the paper.  
The bell rang, signfying lunch.  
He packed his things and made his way to the gym, where he would sit and read for a half hour before going to his sixth class. As much as he was sure Madara wouldn't report him, he still thought on it. What would happen if he did, what he would do, who would be involved.  
Shaken, from his thoughts, by none other than Hatake Kakashi.

"Wha?"

"I said, do you have a partner for this assignment?" Kakashi repeated himself, something he knew the other male hated to do.

Stuttering and blushing madly, he replied he did not, course. To which Kakashi informed him they would work together, half the work for each of them. It was a relatively simple math project. Making and solving their own problem and explaining exactly how to solve it.  
Kakashi was the best in the class, he could have easily done the project all on his own, but their teacher was forcing them to do it in pairs. It would be interesting to say the least to work with him. He was generally of few words and most of them cold and sometimes insulting.  
For all that though, Obito felt the darkness of his mind lifting as he gazed at the back of the boy who would be his partner for the project. It was strange... Really.


	2. Thoughts

'Is it bad that I sit here wondering...  
Wondering what it would be like to die?  
I do not think so...,  
There is always that morbid curiosity about death.  
I can feel the darkness descending over me again...,  
It clouds my vision, my heart, my thoughts.  
A dark cloud,  
Impenetrable.  
Made worse by events beyond control.  
As the darkness descends,  
Yet again, I am left wondering...  
What would it be like to die?'

After writing..., he didn't feel much better. It was the day after he and Kakashi had been paired together, he was back in his room as school ended half an hour ago. A darker mood had fell. One..., he wasn't sure how to shake. He tried exercising, he tried gaming, he tried music. Nothing was working. He knew what he wanted. He really did. It was simple. Really. A drink. A cut. A different kind of drink. A fight. Something. Something to shake the numbness that was slowly descending, the numbness that would prompt something he didn't want to think about.

He was listening to "Stand up" by Trapt, this song..., this song in particular triggered a memory. Not a good one either.

- Flashback -

He was in the sixth grade. This one kid..., was insulting him constantly, every day. Taking his lunch money, knocking his books from his hands. Until one day, it came to a fight. Obito had been shoved to the ground. And now the kid was taunting him, saying he was a useless screw-up.  
Goggles on, eyes welling with tears, Obito swallowed hard, his fists clenching. As the kid went on, Obito stood. He looked up, tears falling inside his goggles. He stalked towards the kid stiffly, his eyes never leaving the other's. The kid never saw Obito's fist until it was planted firmly between his eyes. It was luck that his nose hadn't been broken and the fragments pushed into the brain.  
On that day, Obito's anger had been released for the first time. It was like a fire in his stomach, always burning. Sometimes, he couldn't control it, nor did he want to.

- End Flashback -

He had gained better control since then, but sometimes..., he still wanted to let it loose. To hurt those who had hurt him. To make them cry, make them pay. He wanted it badly.  
He began writing again.

'I can feel it,  
The blood flowing through my veins,  
My heart as it beats,  
I can almost feel the knife in my hand,  
The cool of the blade as it touches warm flesh.  
An unforgiving temptation I live with.  
Why, do I live then?  
I can almost feel the blood as it gushes out of the gash,  
The gash I see myself making in my throat.  
I can see the blood as it splatters the mirrors,  
I can see the smile upon my face as I know I am dying.  
I can see my eyes losing their light, oblivion in sight.'

He trembled, ever-so-slightly. The truth, written in plain script. For any to read if they cared to. The truth of him. What he could see when he closed his eyes, or even when he had them open and unfocused. He saw, he felt, he longed. Nothing seemed..., right, except for that. And he wanted it. Perhaps more than anything, he wanted those things.  
Sitting there, staring at nothing, he was torn between desire and duty. He could feel it, sometimes, the sense that he was slowly unraveling. His mind, his essence, whatever you wanted to call it, it felt as though all the tears were causing him to unravel. He didn't know what would happen if that became so. It sounded interesting, if slightly scary, but no more so than did dying.

'Pain. Pain in my chest.  
Pain in my head.  
Pain in my very core.  
Being alive is nothing but painful.  
Yet I am wanted to live still.  
How long can I endure?  
It has been years already,  
How many more am I expected to force my weary body to continue?  
Weary, exhausted, agonized...  
It's all the same.  
Everyday.  
As time goes on...,  
It only gets worse...'

Writing once more, he still felt no better. He knew he couldn't have it. But sitll, he dreamt it, he longed for it, he wanted it.  
Even..., even thinking of Kakashi, how awesome he was, how he wanted to be the center of his attention in a good way... It didn't seem like enough. Kakashi had barely ever spoken to him. Hardly acknowledging his existence. He wouldn't care in the slightest. Even if he did, what would it change? Nothing. Nothing would change even if he had Kakashi. He would still want, he would still long, he would still be in pain. All he sought was an end to his pain. It didn't matter where the end came from, just so long as it ended.  
In honesty, he felt no better, but he laid in his bed, playing Fable Anniversary, attempting to forget, to lose himself in the world that was Fable.


	3. Happenings

They finished the project the next day, the first two done. Kakashi did not seem surprised, nor did he seem to be done with Obito.

"If you are so smart, why do you not try?"

Obito was startled out of his dark thoughts by this question posed to him by the silver-haired boy beside him.

"I..., It is not that I do not try," Obito began, "It is more, the teachers and all of my classmates see me as a lost cause, so while I get high grades, nothing is made of it. My grades are not the highest, but they are high, but they're not low, they're almost in the middle but I do not get C's, low A's, high B's, sometimes middle A's. Especially in English, even if it is grudgefully given."

Kakashi listened intently, his dark eyes seldom leaving Obito's.  
"Strange...," was all he said, turning his attention elsewhere.

Obito drifted back into his thoughts, thinking of the monster in his bag, the notebook on his desk, the pencil just out of reach, the knife in his pocket, the games back in his room, the way Kakashi studied him, the way his listened.  
Unconciously, he had grabbed and was tightly gripping the pencil. Something, Kakashi didn't fail to notice, nor did he miss the way Obito's eyes slid to his bag and beneath the desk. He wondered, but he did not voice it, intent upon watching instead.

Obito wanted and knew he wanted, but he did not know what to do. It would be a simple thing. Just a trip to the bathroom. Between classes... Simple... Just a small thing. That's all. Nothing of import. He sat, thinking about it through the rest of the period. There was only one class left.  
Dimly, he heard the bell ring. He mechanically put his things away and shouldered his bag, his feet making his decision for him, taking him to the bathroom. It was empty. He had already reached into his pocket, his hand closing over the small pocket knife stashed there. Staring at it but not really seeing it, he flicked it open, pushed up his sleeve just a little. He pressed the cold metal to the warmth of his wrist, relishing in the sensation, the cut was unfelt, the blade so sharp, but the blood that welled spoke for itself. And then there was someone in the room with him, they smacked the knife away from his wrist, he was clenching it tightly.  
Words were yelled but he heard naught, a peaceful smile upon his face. He felt the cold water being run over his cut, the slightly gentle way whomever had burst in wiped the blood from his arm. Slowly, he came back to himself, utterly shocked to see it was Kakashi. He was glaring at him.

"Huh?"

"What do you think you're doing?!" Kakashi all but yelled, his face strangely close to Obito's own.

Obito fumbled for words that wouldn't sound as if he were mad. Spluttering as Kakashi eventually waved his nonsensical words away.  
"We can get to that later. Now, can you get through the rest of the school day?" he had taken Obito by the shoulders, gently.

Obito nodded.  
"Good, wait for me after your last class. We have some things to do and discuss."

Numbly, he realized he had plans with Kakashi after school, then he realized what Kakashi had seen, what he had done. He knew these things, but none of them really registered. His mind was..., blank. The pain, the pent up everything had finally bee released with that cut. He felt..., not good but it wasn't bad either. It was..., peaceful, in a way.

He went to class, sitting there silently, mechanically doing the assignment, then leaving, just barely remembering his locker and having to wait for Kakashi.  
As he waited, he absently began writing a new poem.

'Deep red,  
Light red,  
A faint line of remembrance.  
It's all the same.  
What was  
And cannot be taken back.  
Release in the moment,  
Regret in the future...  
Always the same, but always gone back to.  
The darker the red,  
the healthier one is,  
however, if one is so healthy...,  
Why is a cut or a multitude of them necessary?  
Why does one want to see that red?  
Why can one not stop oneself?  
When everything goes red...,  
Where is the escape?'

He hadn't heard him approach, but Kakashi had read over Obito's shoulder, he kept his face emotionless however.  
"Come with me," Kakashi told the goggled boy, taking him to his house, a slightly long, silent walk.

Kakashi led Obito to his room, which was neat with little in it.  
The silver haired boy returned with two bottles of water, handing one to Obito who still had not said a word.

"Why am I here?"

"Because. What little I have learned of you, I do not understand your earlier actions. I do not like things I do not understand. And..., you could be my rival, I do not have many I could claim that of."

"Those don't seem like very good reasons," Obito responded dully.

"They are good enough!" Kakashi snapped, fixing the black-haired boy with a cold stare.  
Said boy took hardly any notice however, staring at a space upon the floor without really even seeing it.

"Tell me why."

"Isn't it obvious?" Obito laughed weakly.

"Maybe..., but I would like to hear you say it."

"Death. That is why. It is my desire. To cut, to bleed, to die," Obito responded, his eyes finally rising to meet Kakashi's fierce stare, though his eyes were blurred by tears unshed.

Kakashi softened on the inside, but none of it showed outwardly.  
"To die, you would have to cut much deeper and vertically rather than horizontally."

"Don't you think I know that?! If I were permitted to die, I would have by now!" Obito snapped, some of his fire, some of his rage, back if only for the moment.

"What... do you mean?"

"For some reason, no matter what I try..., I always wake up, perhaps sick, perhaps paler, but always I wake," Obito intoned, staring off at the wall to the right.

"Then why bother trying? Why not live as if the next day could be your last?" 

"Isn't it obvious? Because I cannot! I will not be permitted to die, even if it is not by my own hand! I do not desire life! Death is what I seek! It has been for years! But no! I am never given what I seek while countless thousands who wish life are granted death instead!" Obito growled, close to shouting and the tears closer to falling.

Both boys were silent for a time.

"For whatever reason, Obito Uchiha, I am drawn to you, therefore, I will do my best to keep you here until I understand what this is."

Obito's eyes widened. He thought he knew, it was rumored Kakashi had no friends, and never had. Maybe, maybe it was true? And he'd never experienced friendship, either side. But if he'd never had friendship, he'd never had _more_. As Obito attempted to process this, Kakashi had gone on speaking.

Minutues passed before Obito realized Kakashi was waiting for his response.  
"Wh-what?"

"You should go home unless you plan on sleeping in that spot."

Obito's cheeks colored and he hastily muttered that he would go and he all but ran to his own house. So many thoughts were running through his mind, he was surprised when he laid down that he fell asleep in minutes.


	4. Arguments

Obito got up in the morning, getting dressed and everything mechanically, not entirely there. He wore black cargo shorts and a darker orange shirt with a Charmander on it. He walked to school, still somewhat in a daze, a wristband hiding his cut. Kakashi was waiting for him when he got to his locker.  
The silver haired boy followed him every where, literally.  
Even to the bathroom. Obito went into a stall because he certaintly wasn't going to whip it out in front of him. No matter how much he liked him.

After a few weeks of this, Obito eventually got used to it. They spoke some but Obito largely stayed silent despite Kakashi's prodding. He was persistent though. Going to the park one day, thinking he was finally free of Kakashi for awhile, he was singing "Bullet" by Hollywood Undead. He was still softly singing as he did his pull-ups, unknown to him, Kakashi was sitting in one of the trees, watching and of course, listening.

When Отравленный поцелуй(Poison kiss) by Save came on, he did his best to sing it too.  
Finally finished and covered in sweat, still softly singing in Russian, he began the walk back to his house.

"So, that's why you do it."

Obito nearly jumped out of his skin when Kakashi spoke.

"What?"

"I think I understand why you cut."

Obito stopped and faced him, his arms folded.  
"Why is that you think?"

"To feel." He said it simply, as though stating a fact that could be looked up in a book.

Obito said nothing, just stared at him. After a few moments he quietly said, "I'm not as easy to figure out as you think Kakashi Hatake. I told you the truth earlier. Believe what you will though. Whatever this strange fixation on me is, you need to back up. I don't have friends, you know that, I'm pretty sure you don't either. You don't because you're smart, but you're a total dick about it. I don't because I'm gay and emo as fuck. I'm pretty damn sure you don't want to keep following me around or people will start to think you're _with _me."

Kakashi just stared at him, his mouth was hanging open. Obito had never spoken to anyone that way, and no one had ever spoken to Kakashi that way.

"So. You know more about me than anyone has ever known. What will you do?"

Kakashi only stared at him, he was for once, at a loss.

"Well then, hopefully now you will stop your following me about." And with that statement, Obito left Kakashi standing on the sidewalk.

As he walked, the thought about what he had said. All of it was true. He liked men, he was what was known as emo, and he had no friends. Kakashi was probably the closest thing he had to a friend and he had pretty well just fucked that all up. Not that he cared. He wanted to die. Therefore, he did not need anyone. He could feel that familiar darkness beckoning to him, awaiting him. He felt wretched. He only wanted death, an end, a blissful end. It was really all he could think about the majority of time. Death... No matter how much he wanted and longed and tried..., it was never given to him... No matter what he did. he tried anyway, wanting, wishing, hoping that this time would be the time it worked.

He was done with life. It was pointless. He wanted nothing of it. None of it amounted to anything. He was doing nothing meaningful with his life and he was tired of it. Everything that held meaning to him, meant nothing in this world of money, cars, and politics. The things he cared about are from an older, simpler time. A time he longs for.

Drowning in despair, Obito walked to the nearest store, buying himself four monsters. He opened one as he left, chugging a third of it. He gazed at them, his eyes full of sadness. Why had he just spent his money on them? Because he was addicted to them? Because hopefully, one day, they would kill him? This only sunk him further down. He was just so tired, always so tired. That spat with Kakashi had drained him. He wanted to do nothing, just lay down and die. But no, no he could not have that. No matter how hard he tried..., he was never given that.

Upon reaching his room, he put his earbuds in and cranked his music louder than necessary and began to write.

'Stuck here, waiting,  
Living on the outside,  
Dying on the in.  
Waiting, waiting for a day unknown.  
Longing as always,  
No matter who met,  
No matter what said,  
The feelings remain the same.  
Faking the way through,  
Until it all comes crashing down.  
Still, only waiting for a day that may never arrive.'

Pieces by Sum 41 was playing when he set his pencil down. Softly, he sang to himself.  
"I tried to be perfect, it just wasn't worth it. Nothing could ever be so wrong. It's hard to believe me, it never gets easy. I guess I knew that all along..."

He sat, staring into space, replaying events in his head, all of them involving himself and Kakashi. The way Kakashi had followed him and things..., maybe the other boy felt for him, but he didn't know it. Obito snorted, dismissing the idea. Kakashi wouldn't, especially not after what he said to him earlier. There was no way...


	5. A Decision

'Hatred of self.  
Desolation,  
Loneliness,  
Pain,  
Darkness.  
Alone by accident,  
Though if any knew,  
Would they even bother to stay?  
To die alone,  
It's what I wanted, wasn't it?  
I don't know anymore.  
It is but it isn't.  
Given a glimpse of what could be...,  
I still want what I have but that could be keeps returning.  
My only fear,  
is what if he can't stand the way my moods fluctuate?  
What if..., even with him..., I still want?  
I feel...,  
No, I know,  
I will still want.  
It is ingrained within me.  
I do not only wish to make him sad though.  
For I fear that's all I would truly do.  
Torn, as always, hating, desiring, dying slowly.'

His mind laid bare, as always when he wrote. He was still torn about what to do about Kakashi. They were young still. But that didn't mean much. He wanted what he did, and largely, he did as he wanted.

His eyes flicked to the drawers beside his bed. One contained the knife he didn't carry on him. The blade was longer than was legal to carry. He stared for long minutes. Weighing, thinking, accepting.  
He turned back to his notebook, flipping to a new page.

His script flowed neatly through a whole two pages. Finished, he flipped it back to the front page and stood, pushing his chair back. He crossed his room, picking up his knife and closing the drawer. He then walked to the bathroom. The blade was already out. He stared into his googled eyes. Everything orangely tinted.  
Steel glinted in the light. He didn't feel the knife as it went in, he could feel the blood as it gushed out of the wound in his neck. A smile on his face as he crumpled to his knees, the depth of the gash allowing more blood to escape. It stained his favorite dark blue shirt, his hand, wristband, and then the floor as he fell, his eyes closing one last time.

It was a whole week of Kakashi not seeing a hair of the Uchiha boy before he reported what he knew. He followed Minato to the boy's living place. While Minato searched the place for him, Kakashi's eyes were inexorably drawn to the notebook, open to a page filled with Obito's careful hand.

"_Whoever has found this and presumably me, know there was nothing that could be done. This was my destiny from the day I was born. I wanted it for so long. For so very, long. At last, I did it, the gods could not stop me this time! I got what I wanted. I lived my life in darkness. I felt only pain to be alive. A life I did not want nor deserve. I treated my shell terribly, and everyone hated me anyway. So, dead I lay, uncaring I am of the world and what becomes of me after these words are read. I was finally able to fulfill my dream.  
Kakashi, if you happen to read this, know that whatever you were trying to do, it failed. Maybe, if you were less cold to everyone, if you allowed yourself to feel, you could save someone from this fate. But not me, I was not meant to be saved, not by you, not by anyone. Just know I got what I wanted. And..., I suppose, I loved you. Even if neither of us had a chance to know for sure, to experience it to it's full extent. Know it for truth. Someday, I believe you'll find someone to make you happier than I ever could. Someday."  
_

He couldn't stand to read anymore, instead, running blindly from the room, the house, tears welled in his eyes, cascading down, wetting his mask. Obito was gone. He was too late. But..., Obito had faith in him for what could be...


	6. Alternate Ending

'Hatred of self.  
Desolation,  
Loneliness,  
Pain,  
Darkness.  
Alone by accident,  
Though if any knew,  
Would they even bother to stay?  
To die alone,  
It's what I wanted, wasn't it?  
I don't know anymore.  
It is but it isn't.  
Given a glimpse of what could be...,  
I still want what I have but that could be keeps returning.  
My only fear,  
is what if he can't stand the way my moods fluctuate?  
What if..., even with him..., I still want?  
I feel...,  
No, I know,  
I will still want.  
It is ingrained within me.  
I do not only wish to make him sad though.  
For I fear that's all I would truly do.  
Torn, as always, hating, desiring, dying slowly.'

His mind laid bare, as always when he wrote. He was still torn about what to do about Kakashi. They were young still. But that didn't mean much. He wanted what he did, and largely, he did as he wanted.

His eyes flicked to the drawers beside his bed. One contained the knife he didn't carry on him. The blade was longer than was legal to carry. He stared for long minutes. Weighing, thinking, accepting.  
He turned back to his notebook, flipping to a new page.

His script flowed neatly through a whole two pages. Finished, he flipped it back to the front page and stood, pushing his chair back. He crossed his room, picking up his knife and closing the drawer. He then walked to the bathroom. The blade was already out. He stared into his googled eyes. Everything orangely tinted.  
Steel glinted in the light. He didn't feel the knife as it went in, he could feel the blood as it gushed out of the wound in his neck. A smile on his face as he crumpled to his knees, the depth of the gash allowing more blood to escape. It stained his favorite dark blue shirt, his hand, wristband, and then the floor as he fell, his eyes closing one last time.

Despite what had happened between them earlier, Kakashi had still doggedly followed Obito. He could see into his room from the tree he was sitting in. He watched as Obito sat, writing, then got up and took something out of a drawer. Minutes passed as Obito did not reappear. Kakashi jumped from the tree, running to the door and kicking it open with surprising force for one his size. As it banged against the wall, he was rushing to Obito's room. He still wasn't there, so he backtracked, the bathroom. And that was when he found him. Bleeding, the knife beside him, Kakashi crouched next to him, grabbing the roll of toilet paper and ripping off a chunk and pressing it hard to his friend's neck, his other hand fumbling his cell phone to call an ambulance. He could only hope he wasn't too late.

They arrived with sirens, he was shuffled out of the way, not even allowed a ride with them in the back. And so he ran as far as he could, walking the rest of the way to the hospital.  
Due to blood-loss, Obito was in a light coma, which he should come out of within days.  
Kakashi did not leave his side except for the bathroom, just sitting there, staring at his friend, paler than ever.

When Obito's eyes opened, Kakashi hugged him hard and tight.  
"K-Kakashi...?"

Reluctantly, Kakashi released him.

"I... I am alive... Which means..., you saved me..." Obito sounded bitter, very, very bitter about that.

"Of course I did," Kakashi said simply.

Moments later in the tense silence, a doctor walked in and told Kakashi he would have to leave the room for a few while he spoke with him.

When Kakashi was allowed back in, Obito was hollow-eyed.

"You know, whatever happens, I'll always be here for you."

"You know what they said? They're putting me in an institution. Mandatory therapy and medication. Nothing even relatively pointy. Cavity searches to make sure I take my meds. Do you have any idea what you've done?" it came out harsh, perhaps harsher than he had intended.

"They'll help you. Better than I can," Kakashi insisted.

"You're a fool, Kakashi Hatake. If you can, go read my note. Try to have them give it to me, the notebook I mean. Tell them it will help my therapy go better. And it will. They can inspect it beforehand."

"_Whoever has found this and presumably me, know there was nothing that could be done. This was my destiny from the day I was born. I wanted it for so long. For so very, long. At last, I did it, the gods could not stop me this time! I got what I wanted. I lived my life in darkness. I felt only pain to be alive. A life I did not want nor deserve. I treated my shell terribly, and everyone hated me anyway. So, dead I lay, uncaring I am of the world and what becomes of me after these words are read. I was finally able to fulfill my dream.  
Kakashi, if you happen to read this, know that whatever you were trying to do, it failed. Maybe, if you were less cold to everyone, if you allowed yourself to feel, you could save someone from this fate. But not me, I was not meant to be saved, not by you, not by anyone. Just know I got what I wanted. And..., I suppose, I loved you. Even if neither of us had a chance to know for sure, to experience it to it's full extent. Know it for truth. Someday, I believe you'll find someone to make you happier than I ever could. Someday."  
_

After reading and doing as Obito requested, Kakashi was confused. All he had wanted was to help Obito. He had done the right thing, hadn't he?

And so, Obito laid in that hospital bed and cried. He was denied, again. All he would have to show for it was a lousy scar.


End file.
